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I could not say why he went for my face of all things first but I'll be damned if I'm going to lose an eye so early on in this fight. I don't even know what we're fighting for, not really, not anymore. All I know is that the adrenaline is coursing through my veins and I'm hungry for more. My lips and tongue long to taste his blood and flesh once more and my jaws feel the urge to clamp down. He bites into the thick fur of my neck and shoulder and I feel a sense of satisfaction when he coughs on my fur and loosens the hold some. It doesn't dull the pain of his scissor-like teeth but it's a start. I cry out in pain, unable to help it though it stings my pride the moment the cry leaves my lips. Something has changed in him. I can sense it in every moevement of his body now, every flash of his fangs. When I get another glimpse of his eyes, they don't seem as deranged and raged filled as before. If anything, they seem more calculating now, more logical. So why are we still at each other's throats? I think it's more about the thrill of the fight now. We're both so caught up in the blood and clashing of teeth that it's like a rush, a high that you never want to come down from. I feel it too. I do manage to grasp his leg in my teeth and when I jerk on it, I know he can feel it because I hear a sound from his lips now and it makes my body tremble with eagerness. He bites into my fur, digging into the skin and I feel the warm rush of blood to the surface. I know my shoulder must be trickling blood now. I can feel it making a path down my leg. I try not to think about it, to ignore the ache every time I move the shoulder. My head is pounding and now he's biting again, trying to get better purchase so I keep moving, not wanting him to get his aim. It feels like he's trying to pinch a nerve or something so I shift beneath his teeth, moving every time he loosens his grip, making sure he never hits the mark he's aiming for. When I throw myself sideways, I feel his grip slip loose and I feel the rush of victory even as my whole body twinges with pain. We both scramble to our paws, out of breath, our sides heaving and tongues lolling out but full of fight still. We face each other and I know it's not over yet and I can't help the slight cheer of excitement somewhere deep in my mind at that fact. I know that I have injured his leg but the snarl he lets loose the moment he sets it down. I can tell its a weak point not but do I want to take advantage of that? An opponent going for the win would but I never set out to beat him up, only get him away from the other wolf. I succeeded in that and now it's just a show of strength but really, what kind of show would that be, to further injure his leg just to force his surrender? That's no victory in my mind so I push the thought to the back of my mind. I'll play clean as long as he does. I can see it's bleeding pretty badly and it looks deep in some spots. My ears flick back and forth. I almost feel bad for him but there's no time for sympathy, not yet. Maybe once we both calm down and can talk rationally but we're not at that point just yet. When he lunges forward, I'm ready for it, braced and ready to move. He dives down for my leg and I back off, dipping my head down but he manages to graze my muzzle with his canines, drawing two thin red lines that ooze scarlet. I shake my head, growling low under my breath. What is it with him and my face? He keeps coming and I back peddle, waiting for my chance. when he dives low again for my chest, I push forward, bringing my paw up to slap downward at his open muzzle, aiming to scratch into the top of his muzzle with my claws like he did with his teeth before I lunge forward, aiming for the flesh right behind his jaw. If I manage to grasp it, I start shaking my head, aiming to tear the flesh before I release, pushing my chest into him so he can't back up for a better shot. I'm not giving him any slack now, my body staying pressed to his. I breathe heavily into his ear, my teeth nipping at his flesh in warning that if he keeps this up, we'll both be too tired to fight soon enough. "What is your goal now? Do you want to kill me or are you just killing time?" I murmur through panting breaths. Avery female.four years old.35', 150lbs.born to ChernobylxBeowulf.sibling to Adalmund&Aelfgar.bound to none.mated to none.betrothed to Leonidas.mother to none.tied to nowhere |